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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794258">OC-tober 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollifree/pseuds/ollifree'>ollifree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:53:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollifree/pseuds/ollifree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's October you know we gotta write.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Magic/Spirits - Anders, Warden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is the event Caedan referred to in the sixth chapter of the last ZevWarden week. My mind went, "What if this is how Caedan and Anders recognized each other in Awakening?" and I went, "Trag-larious" and signed off on it. Caedan's twenty and four years out from the Joining in this, for those interested in timelines.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“All right, all right. No need to be <i>graby</i>.”</p><p>Anders stirred at the voice. It was so at odds with what his world had become over the past months. What he <i>thought</i> was months. He was pretty sure he was down to one meal a day now. Curled in a corner of his cell, Anders got no more than a glimpse of the other mage before a pair of templars blocked his view. He waited until the templars left, taking the light with them, to make his way to the bars. The cold and the stone made his body so sore each shuffling step was a limp. Leaning against the bars for support, he called a shaky hello.</p><p>“Hello?” There was a scuffling noise, and the voice sounded from closer by. Anders guessed the other mage was standing near to the wall that separated them. “Didn’t realize they had someone else down here.”</p><p>The breath Anders let out was the best he could make his disused laugh. Definitely months. Mages were assumed dead by everyone after enough time had passed. “I’m down here.”</p><p>“Great! I don’t suppose you could conjure up a flame? They cleansed my magic before bringing me down.”</p><p>In answer, Anders stuck his right arm out between the bars.</p><p>“Ah...that’s a shame.”</p><p>On his wrist was a metal cuff covered in glowing runes. The light it gave off was dim, even in the total darkness of the dungeon. While Anders was able to keep his own extremities warm, the runes prevented him from creating so much as a spark.</p><p>He started to withdraw his arm, then thought twice and left his wrist dangling out so the other mage had some light. “What made them bring you here?”</p><p>“Interrupted the Knight-Lieutenant’s monthly.”</p><p><i>That’d do it.</i> Each month, the mages were gathered for a speech from the Knight-Lieutenant. It served to remind the mages that they were bad, the Chantry was good, and that through devotion to the Chantry the Maker might one day forgive their sin of being born.</p><p>“What month is it?”</p><p>“Kingsway.”</p><p>A shiver ran through Anders. Six months. No wonder the other mage was surprised he was down here.</p><p>“That’s...a while?” the other mage asked.</p><p>“S-since Drakonis.”</p><p>“What did <i>you</i> do?”</p><p>“Escaped. Made it two whole days, this time.”</p><p>“...Are you <i>Anders</i>?” He felt as incredulous as they sounded. “Maker’s— That’s great! You’re not dead!”</p><p>“If this counts.”</p><p>They laughed. A loud bark of a laugh that echoed into silence before they said, almost too soft to hear, “Could always be worse.”</p><p>“Yes...” Another shiver, and he knew they were each thinking of the same thing. It could <i>always</i> be worse.</p><p>“Anyone up there you want to know? That you’re not dead or worse, I mean.”</p><p>He had to swallow thickly against a lump the other mage’s offer had put in his throat. “Do you...know a man named Karl?”</p><p>“Not personally. There a specific school he studies? Member of a fraternity?” <i>One of the Tranquil?</i> They didn’t say it out loud, but it was one of the options.</p><p>“Spirit magic?”</p><p>“You’re in luck. My friend might know him.”</p><p>Anders’ heart rose. It immediately sank.</p><p>“Doesn’t do me any good. With you down here.”</p><p>“You’re right. It won’t do <i>you</i> any good. I shouldn’t be here too much longer.”</p><p>The wall met Anders’ gape. “But—”</p><p>“For one, they only cleansed my magic. No glowing jewelry for me. Two, I only got mouthy instead of escaping. Three, I am <i>very</i> prompt for lessons.”</p><p>Anders continued to gape at the wall. Was...were they an <i>apprentice</i>?</p><p>“You <i>might</i> want to get back where they won’t notice you. I’m ten minutes overdue, if I’m not mistaken.”</p><p>He followed their advice, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe the confidence in their voice. He’d begun second-guessing himself only a few days into his confinement. A few days? Had he lasted that long? Would he last for <i>another</i> six months if he had to?</p><p>Curled back up in his corner, Anders started to wonder if the conversation and the mage themself hadn’t been a delusion. Then the doors once again opened. A mage strode ahead of the accompanying templars. Anders’ throat got drier. That was the <i>First Enchanter.</i></p><p>When he reached the cell the other mage was in, the First Enchanter let out a sigh that didn’t sound angry so much as it sounded disappointed. “Amell.” No answer came forth. “I cannot help you with no explanation.”</p><p>“Irving…”</p><p>Anders felt sure now that the conversation, at least, he’d constructed on his own. That plaintive tone, surely, did not belong to the same mage.</p><p>“You know I’d never <i>intend</i> to disrespect the Knight-Lieutenant. Don’t you?”</p><p>One of the templars muttered something under their breath. They were either new or low in the ranks or both, judging from the withering glare the First Enchanter didn’t mask when he looked their way.</p><p>“Regardless, the Knight-Lieutenant expects an apology to start with.”</p><p>“I… I understand, but,” the location of the voice shifted. Anders imagined they were close to the bars again, pressing up against the freezing iron in supplication. “The Knight-Lieutenant already put me down here. Would…any apology I made really be accepted?”</p><p>The First Enchanter sighed again. This time in defeat.</p><p>“Let us get you out of here for now. We shall see what is to be done together.”</p><p>When the other mage left their cell, Anders could see that they were indeed an apprentice. Albeit an older one. They held themself as they walked, head bent and body shivering. As they passed, they met Anders’ gaze with eyes as black as the depths of the dungeon, and winked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Wishes/Dreams - Inquisitor, Solas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another callback in this one, this time to Chapter 7 of 14DALovers where we get the story of Fanari's necklace. This is the start of the trend leading up to Fanari using fire magic to write "Fanari Was Right" in the air whenever Solas says or does anything post story resolution.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Inquisitor.”</p><p>“Solas.” Fanari turned and retraced her steps across Skyhold’s courtyard. “Are you feeling better?”</p><p>“A little.” His eyes gave the courtyard a restless scan. Fanari stepped in his line of vision and angled her ears towards the shadow of the outer walls.</p><p>Once in the shade, she asked, “Where did you go?”</p><p>“I spent a few days in the Fade, in the spaces my friend once was.”</p><p>Fanari bit at the nail of her thumb. “What <i>happens</i> when a spirit…?”</p><p>“The Fade is lesser for it. Spirits do not return in the way you might imagine. Spirits of Wisdom are reflections of thought. One day something new might fill the spaces, but it will not share the memories of its forebear.”</p><p>“<i>Ir abelas</i>.”</p><p>“<i>Ma serannas</i>.”</p><p>“...So where were you the other few days?”</p><p>“Returning to Skyhold.”</p><p>“I’m glad you’re back.” The tightness in her chest whenever someone was gone, a layover of being First, lessened. “And safe.”</p><p>“Thank you. I have wondered…”</p><p>When he didn’t continue for several moments, Fanari prompted, “Hm?”</p><p>“It is only… I have not been able to see why you prevented me from my actions.”</p><p>…Huh?</p><p>“You don’t...understand why I stopped you?”</p><p>“It is why I’m asking.”</p><p>Fanari tilted her head as though the shift in perspective would help her see what she was missing. Who <i>wouldn’t</i> understand? Even after the grief had passed. It was an experience that linked all of them; be they from a city or a clan.</p><p>“Where have you <i>been</i>?”</p><p>His brow creased.</p><p>“What world have you <i>lived in</i> that killing them wouldn’t make things worse for us?”</p><p>Solas looked past her. “My anger did cloud my judgement. It would be hard for the Inquisition to—”</p><p>“I don’t mean the Inqui—” Fanari pressed her hands to her face. “<i>Us</i>, Solas! You know how it goes! It doesn’t <i>matter</i> how justified we are! Half of <i>Thedas</i> already thinks the Breach was Elvhen magic. <i>You</i> said the orb Corypheus has is Elvhen-make! We can’t just go <i>killing shemlen</i>! They couldn’t do anything to <i>you</i> if they found out, but that wouldn’t stop them from—from a servant, or an alienage, or a <i>clan</i>.” She had to stop. She was becoming less coherent, and she didn’t like how the threat of tears roughened her voice. Not out here where all of Skyhold could chance upon them.</p><p>He stared at her. Fanari cocked an ear in question.</p><p>“I think none of us have seen you angry before.”</p><p>“You think I don’t get <i>angry</i> over what they can do to us?” She pushed her bangs back. “Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to those boys who—” Her hand dropped to the bird’s skull hanging from her neck. “I’m <i>sorry</i> for what they did. I <i>wish</i> I could have let you kill them. But, I’m happy for you. That you came from somewhere so different the consequences didn’t even enter your head.”</p><p>Solas looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You will need to forgive me. You’re right. I did not think my actions would elicit such a response. From those in power or you.”</p><p>“Well.” Fanari turned her hand over so the Mark showed clearly. “Been on my mind a lot.”

Always. Since she had been named Deshanna’s apprentice over a decade before becoming First. Her and Elnara, always aware so their actions didn’t bring danger to the clan.</p><p>“Has it been bothering you while I was gone?”</p><p>Fanari flexed her fingers. “It tingles.” Like having a piece of the Fade on her hand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Stories/Memories - Warden, Warden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A couple of gays learn queer theory.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Nasi, definitely only attracted to women: "I think I might be gay."</p><p>Caedan, will die if not the center of attention: "I'm *right* here."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nasi sat with a solid <i>thump</i> next to Terron on the stone. Sweet, wonderful, all around and up and down stone. The Deep Roads were excused for their existence by putting solid rock over her head again. More rock than even Orzammar offered. She looked up and wrinkled her nose at the black stains on the roof of the cave. Down here, the corruption pounded along with each thud of her heart. They were lucky that the darkspawn so far stuck out like a fresh wound on a pained limb. She wished…</p><p>She wanted the <i>others</i> here. Even one more warden against the horde that pressed in on all sides from the dark. Terron <i>was</i> the most sensitive of the group, a fact she’d been thankful for more than once the past month. Nasi… Nasi almost knew when the ‘spawn would appear, more than sensing through the blood as Terron did. The same way she felt which tunnels were the right ones to enter; where to find hidden passages. Almost as if the Stone were—</p><p>
  <i>”That’s our salroka!” Leske threw an arm over her shoulders. Don’t throw it off and ruin the job. Don’t throw it off don’t throw it off don’t throw it off. “Better Stone sense than all the castes combined!”</i>
</p><p>Tch.</p><p>She stamped down the thought. The Stone was good to have overhead and underfoot. Brands didn’t need more than that.</p><p>Nasi sent a glance to the other end of the narrow cavern. The others of the expedition, Leliana, Zevran, and the semi-Warrior Oghren, <i>seemed</i> to be out of earshot. Leliana and the Oghren were. She still didn’t have a solid estimate on how good an elf’s hearing was. As few people that heard her talk about this, the better.</p><p>“<i>So</i>.”</p><p>Terron’s ear swiveled in her direction. She wished he wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t <i>right</i> for body parts to move so independently. Zevran at least had the decency to look at someone. Terron did look at her, when she didn’t continue.</p><p>“So…?”</p><p>“So. I heard...you lot,” she jutted her chin at the rest of them. “On the Surface when we were...getting here.” Terron placed his cheek against his hands. Good. She had his attention. “So, what you said about...only liking men.” Thank the sodding <i>Stone</i> it was Terron down here and not Caedan, the way one of his eyebrows arched up. Hopeless attraction to <i>him</i> wasn’t what she was trying to get to. “Is that...can people <i>do</i> that? Be only attracted to their own gender?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Even women?”</p><p>Nasi got the distinct impression he was mirroring her own vexed expression. “<i>Yes</i>?”</p><p>“You’re sure? Completely sure? Because I think I might— Why are you <i>laughing</i>?”</p><p>He wasn’t just laughing. He was <i>snickering</i>. Turned away from her and eyes shut, apparently finding this <i>hilarious</i>.</p><p>“<i>Ir abel</i>— Sorry, sorry.” He gave her the justice of opening an eye to look at her. “It’s— Creators, Nasi, I had the <i>corruption</i> and I knew when we met.”</p>
<hr/><p>Alistair had better sodding appreciate the things she did for him. Stone knew <i>she</i> hardly demanded anyone go to Orzammar to see <i>her</i>. Nevermind she only rarely left the Deep Roads to see Rica, and <i>then</i> she found out they’d tried to visit. Wasn’t her fault expeditions could go on for weeks. If she could rid herself of the cowards that made up the Warrior Caste, she’d make them last months.</p><p>Nasi took a reflexive glance at the ceiling of Denerim’s palace. On her previous visit to the Surface she’d finally put her finger on why human dwellings kept her uneasy. The stones used in the construction were just...stones. Stones that held none of the life of the Stone.</p><p>That the craftsmanship was shoddy at best and shit at most didn’t help.</p><p>Better than the open sky, though.</p><p>Most the guards in the palace recognized her, and those who didn’t were quickly shushed by their companions when they questioned her. She let herself into the royal chambers.</p><p>“Nasi!” Lanni beamed. “How are—honestly you two she can open a <i>door</i>, get back to guarding it. How’re the Deep Roads?”</p><p>“Full of darkspawn.”</p><p>“And yourself?”</p><p>“Covered in darkspawn.”</p><p>“Ha! Go on ahead. I’ve got to finish getting dressed.”</p><p>Lanni looked fine: pants, boots, shirt. Nasi let her get on her way. The inner wing was hardly something people got <i>lost</i> in. At the opposite end of the hall was a set of double doors that led to a dining area. Halfway down a second hall intersected the first. To the left, where Lanni went, were chambers for Ferelden’s monarchs. To the right were rooms for family, currently occupied by the princess.</p><p>Nasi had been promised a childfree visit. Mostly childfree was the best she would get. Lanni didn’t have a wetnurse and Nasi was a realist. The kid had stopped looking like a squished vegetable, but Nasi wasn’t holding her breath for the thing to start speaking full sentences.</p><p>Zevran and Terron were already on the other side of the dining area’s double doors. Zevran put a finger to smiling lips as she entered. Terron was seated upside down at the table. She’d seen him sit properly, and not just with his legs crossed on the seat as he often did, but she admired his dedication. Nasi took the chair on the other side of Terron.</p><p>The table sat sixteen with four to a side. Nasi had been in Denerim when Alistair and Lanni had done away with the ornate chair that lowered the seating to fifteen. Maybe they still had it gathering dust somewhere. The wood it was carved from would fetch the same price in Orzammar as the jewels inlaid in it would on the Surface.</p><p>“It’s good to see the darkspawn have not gotten you,” Zevran greeted.</p><p>“No Leliana?” Terron asked.</p><p>“Doing a Chantry job.”</p><p>“Ah.” She could hear Terron’s interest drop like a weighted boulder.</p><p>The door opened and Terron rolled off his chair. Lanni’s version of “fully dressed” included a vest. “Sorry we took so long.”</p><p>“You’re already here!” Alistair cried. Nasi was sure she heard Terron’s bones crack from the embrace Alistair gave him.</p><p>Terron leaned over Alistair’s arm to eye the book Lanni held. “Watcha reading?”</p><p>Nasi kept half her attention to the conversation as Alistair came to greet her and Zevran.</p><p>“Oh, meant to leave this.  A new one gets circulated every few years. It’s a collection on different kinds of attraction and gender.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“Mostly so people can find the ones that fit them and everyone knows what other people mean. Like, I can tell someone I’m demi and they’ll know what kind of asexual I am.”</p><p>One of Terron’s ears twitched.</p><p>“Which word?”</p><p>“Demi.”</p><p>“It means I’m only interested in someone I’m emotionally attached to. Same thing if someone’s a demi aromantic. It’s why I was looking through this,” she hefted the book. “I’m not sure what kind of romantic feelings I have.”</p><p>“Ones for me!” Alistair swept over to kiss her temples. “Obviously.”</p><p>“I <i>am</i> attracted to men who can get me a queenship.”</p><p>Alistair gasped.</p><p>“Doesn’t…” Terron looked concerned. “Doesn’t everyone feel that way? Romantically? Is...is that a thing?”</p><p>Nasi slammed her hands on the table “<i>Now who’s the idiot</i>!?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whenever Terron sits upside down in a chair, the banter goes:<br/>Zevran: "Are you trying to seduce me?"<br/>Terron: "Is it working?"<br/>so obviously he has to do it every time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Home/Comfort - Iron Bull, Inquisitor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The best thing about adopting twins was that Bull never had to know the heartbreak of not holding one of his children. Check out Jo Nestø's "The Snowman", you will know *exactly* which moment I'm referencing in this fic.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ah-ha,” Kendra tapped a page of her book.</p><p>“What is it?” Bull pulled the covers aside to join her.</p><p>In answer, he got the book pushed onto him. A finger showed him where to start.</p><p>Yup. That’d do it.</p><p>“He got through this much in a day?” The incriminating page was two-thirds into the novel. Despite the past week, Bull couldn’t be anything but impressed.</p><p>“He takes after his papa.”</p><p>“<i>Papa</i> didn’t teach him to read at four.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, what was it your <i>tamassran</i> used to call you?”</p><p>He needed to stop telling her things. “...<i>Ashkaari</i>.”</p><p>“Alright, <i>nerd</i>, so the kid takes after you.”</p><p>“Fine,” Bull groaned. “But we’ll need to start putting things higher if he can already reach that table.”</p><p>“Also your fault,” Kendra replied breezily, as though she weren’t six feet tall and equally responsible for their son’s height. Bull handed her back the book. She didn’t take it.</p><p>“Three,” she began.</p><p>“Two.” Bull hurriedly shoved the book in the nightstand.</p><p>“One.”</p><p>The door to their room creaked open, and Skylar peeked in with one teary eye.</p><p>“Aw, shortstack,” Kendra cooed, “bad dream?”</p><p>Skylar was across the room and sniffling into her shoulder like a shot. Kendra stroked his springy coils of hair as she soothed him. Her words dipped into Nevarran phrases that Bull more had a feel of their meaning than an understanding. Bull shifted closer, wrapping one arm around Kendra and holding the other open for Skylar to come into his lap.</p><p>“<i>Ataashi</i>,” he crooned. Skylar looked up at him and then buried his face back against Kendra. She met Bull’s eye over their son’s head and stuck out the tip of her tongue.</p><p>“Wanna sleep with Tama and Papa?” she asked.</p><p>“Mhm…” Skylar wiped at his eyes. “Yeah.”</p><p>Bull, neither tired nor wanting to be, lay on his side with his chin propped in his hand. Skylar nestled up to Kendra under her arm. The arrangement forced her out of her regular sleeping position on her stomach, but her hand had still snaked its way under the pillows. Hers was a lighter sleep than usual. Each movement of the mattress Bull caused made her arm flex. Slowly, so he wouldn’t alert her, he pulled over a few pillows to support the weight of his horns.</p><p>“Don’t stab me,” he warned in a soft tone as he set an arm over them both.</p><p>He could hear the smile in her voice. “No promises.”</p>
<hr/><p>After Skylar turned fifteen the previous year his horns had started coming in. His hair was still fixing itself to the new arrangement, and had solved the problem by dropping a mass of curls over his forehead.</p><p>“Tama?” He leaned his arms on the back of a chaise lounge to address his mother. </p><p>She looked up from the papers in her hands. Port logs, if he was reading upside down correctly. “What’s that, shortstack?”</p><p>“I was looking for a book you’ve read. Blue cover? Yae big?”</p><p>Kendra glanced back down with a grin. “The one that gave you nightmares for a month?”</p><p>Skylar turned his head to the side, a warm blush rising to his cheeks. “...Maybe.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kendra: "I shall have a biological child for passing on the family genes."<br/>Skylar, age six, Trevelyan genes activating: "I shall traumatize myself for fun and profit."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Alternate Universe - Warden, Warden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A small piece of the Pepe Silvia conspiracy board that is my modern AU. Minor warnings for a smoking mention and scientific body exhibits. Yes, Terron's hockey team is *the* Chargers.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Terron had to force himself to raise his head and check the alarm clock when his cell started ringing.</p><p>
  <i>Damn it.</i>
</p><p>“Yeah?” he groaned, an arm over his eyes.</p><p>“Hey, Ter-bear,” came Caedan’s chipper voice. “You forget we agreed to take night shift?”</p><p>“No, but I’m regretting it.”</p><p>Caedan laughed. “How do you like your bagels?”</p><p>“With raisins and smothered in cream cheese.”</p><p>“Toasted?”</p><p>“<i>Gross</i>.”</p><p>“Gotcha. Be there in ten.” He would be. The bagel shop was five minutes down the road.</p><p>Terron stuck his head under the shower long enough to wake up and grabbed his tie off the back of a chair. Why he still needed one when he’d be gone before the museum opened was beyond him. He had his key in the lock when Caedan pulled into the lot.</p><p>“Need a ride?”</p><p>“Nah,” Terron opened the passenger door. “I’m going back to bed.”</p><p>“Only if I get to join. This is for you.” Caedan passed Terron a bag and cup.</p><p>Terron lifted the lid to make sure it wasn’t coffee before doing his seat belt. “How was your weekend?”</p><p>“So-so.” Caedan drove with one hand holding his drink. “Need to decide if the computer can make it another year.”</p><p>“How old is it?”</p><p>“Five. Should make it 'til the sales start next week, if nothing else.”</p><p>Terron gave a noncommittal grunt and bit into his bagel. “I said smothered.”</p><p>“I didn’t make it, boo.”</p><p>They said their hellos and goodbyes to the previous shift as they got their debriefing. Terron was used to the reverse, but until hiring was done this was his reality. Maybe after, if he and Caedan decided the schedule fit them better. It would be him <i>and</i> Caedan. That hadn’t changed since they’d hit it off at orientation three jobs and thirteen years before.</p><p>“I’ll do first sweep,” Caedan offered on their way back to the security room.</p><p>“Sure.” Terron entered and settled for a long hour of watching cameras. Eight minutes in he pulled out his phone to check hockey scores. He debated watching the afternoon’s defeat of three to ten in a home game when his walkie beeped.</p><p>“Terron come in.”</p><p>“Go ahead.”</p><p>“You see the new special exhibit?” One hallway of the museum was set aside for touring attractions.</p><p>“Not yet.”</p><p>“Do it on your walk. You’ll love it.”</p><p>Caedan returned a handful of minutes later. “Whatcha watchin’?”</p><p>“An embarrassment,” Terron said as their goalie missed another save.</p><p>“Mind putting your earbuds in? Don’t want to hear the crowds.”</p><p>“What’ve you got?” He indicated Caedan’s wire as he dug in his pockets. His own were wireless, made of a different material to not irritate the sensitive skin of elvhen ears.</p><p>“Book.” With him it was either that or a podcast. “It’s a new release on astrophysics.”</p><p>“...Dare I ask?”</p><p>“The possible ends of the universe.”</p><p>“Neat!” No time like the middle of the night for existential dread.</p><p>An hour after Caedan got back from his, Terron took the next patrol. Resigned to the fact the Chargers had decided to let him down personally this season, he left his phone. The hum of the lights provided enough white noise, and he found he liked the sound of his steps in the quiet.</p><p>The special exhibit this time around was on health. Terron walked through a child-interaction section on digestion; two smaller displays on the heart and lungs placed together; an area on pregnancy and infancy that held no interest to him; and beyond that the <i>crème de la crème</i>.</p><p>“Caedan call back.”</p><p>“Yeah go.”</p><p>“Shit’s awesome.”</p><p>Around the last corner of the staged paths was a room of donors. The body of a skinned human woman was displayed front and center. Behind it were scaled diagrams of a qunari, elf, and dwarf. On the other side of the poster were separate displays of the skeleton and veins of two different qunari. <i>Guess Which Heart Belongs To You!</i> read a kiddie station in pink lettering that held a mutual hatred for Terron’s dyslexia. In the middle of the room was a brain once belonging to a dwarf, according to the placard.</p><p>He took his time in the exhibit before resuming his patrol. When he entered the hall leading to security, Caedan spoke over the walkie.</p><p>“Hey, asshole, I can see you goofing off. Get back to work.”</p><p>Terron flipped off the camera.</p><p>Several hours later, a little after six, Caedan stood. “Need a smoke break.”</p><p>“You, uh, you said you were gonna quit, right? By the time your kid was born?”</p><p>“It’s a work in progress.”</p><p>“How old’s Kieran again?”</p><p>“I don’t smoke at home, and it takes me a long-ass time to get through one of these.”</p><p>“How old is your son, Caedan?”</p><p>Caedan’s smile made it look like he was close to wringing Terron’s throat. “He’s four.”</p><p>When Caedan was gone Terron’s phone buzzed.</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>“Oh!” Merrill exclaimed. “You’re awake!”</p><p>Merrill had the distinct joy of being full-time employee, part-time student, and part-time volunteer. Usually they got each other’s voicemail.</p><p>“Did Tamlen tell you about Thanksgiving?”</p><p>“No. I’ll bitch him out later.”</p><p>“He’s just worried he won’t be able to make it back in time to do more than shower before he comes over. He was hoping one of us could get drinks? He’d pay them back.”</p><p>So he was hoping Terron would get drinks. Fenarel was taking care of the turkey and Merrill didn’t have a car.</p><p>“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”</p><p>“Ah, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”</p><p>Terron rolled his eyes affectionately. He heard a muffled, robotic announcement of a street.</p><p>“That’s my stop, I have to go. We’ll see you Thursday!”</p><p>“Thursday. Hey. My schedule changed, I’m on nightshift for the week if anyone needs to get hold of me.”</p><p>“I’ll let the others know. Bye!”</p><p>After the call ended Terron went to his texts. His lockscreen had been changed the year prior to a photo of him and Zevran at their wedding. His homescreen, however, was still a scan of the photo taken of Tamlen, Merrill, Fenarel, and himself the day before Merrill left Ashale’s care.</p><p>Ashale’s was the foster home they’d all been in when they aged out of the system. Terron had landed there when he was seventeen and nearly halfway through his junior year. Ashale was the reason he had a diploma instead of a GED. Merrill and Fenarel he’d met there, but Tamlen had been bounced around the system as much as Terron. Hers wasn’t the first house they’d shared. Merrill had only been a year ahead of Terron and started their Thanksgiving tradition by visiting her first year out. She’d undertaken the very easy task of getting them to do the same after they turned eighteen to provide Ashale’s younger charges with the holiday meal.</p><p>Terron opened up the group chat and sent: <i>don’t be an *ass* tamlen</i>.</p><p>“Boss should be here soon.” Caedan reappeared, blowing a bubble of mint gum. “You want to let him in?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>The boss was the most senior curator on staff, was only the boss of some of the interns, and was as good as a kick in the dick if he felt his time was being wasted.</p><p>“Morning,” Terron greeted when he buzzed him in.</p><p>“Good morning. This...isn’t your usual shift?”</p><p>“Covering until hiring’s done.”</p><p>“Ah. Let me know when the shift changes over?”</p><p>“You got it.” Back in the security room he told Caedan, “Boss man wants to know next shift’s here before we leave.”</p><p>“So tell him?”</p><p>Caedan went to deliver the news as Terron handled the short debrief. “You should tell your daughter about the exhibit, she’d love it.”</p><p>“She already got <i>tickets</i>! Thank goodness she told me before I bought them, but they were going to be part of her graduation gift!”</p><p>“I’m sure she won’t mind seeing it twice.”</p><p>Outside, Caedan set his hands at the small of his back and leaned until his spine popped. “Pancakes!”</p><p>They agreed on fast food pancakes, as they were cheaper and nearer to where they lived.</p><p>“You mind?” Terron asked when his phone buzzed.</p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>In response to his text, Fenarel had sent a laughing emoji and Tamlen a <i>D:</i>. Caedan picked up his own phone as Terron put his away.</p><p>“Hey, babe. Nah, we just got off. Yeah, I’m there now. What’s he want? Mhm. Anything for you? Sure you don’t want anything? Got it, got it. See you soon, love you.” Caedan made his detour to the counter after they’d gathered their trash. “Hotcakes and a medium coffee to go?”</p><p>“Can you drop me off at the supermarket?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He’d get the drinks when he could go home without collapsing immediately into bed. For now he was going for the fruit he’d forgotten the other day.</p><p>After showering he stretched out on top of the covers. Late afternoon sunlight woke him when it lanced into his eyes. He checked his phone—nothing—and went into the living room. He was upside down on the couch, zoned out and not absorbing whatever it was he had on, when his phone finally went off.</p><p>He rolled upright as he grabbed it. “Hello?”</p><p>“<i>Ugh</i>, you would not <i>believe</i> the conditions they’re keeping us in, <i>amor</i>.”</p><p>“Oh?” Terron grinned. Anything short of the royal treatment was beneath Zevran’s working standards.</p><p>“They couldn’t even get us all on the same <i>flight</i>! We were in customs for <i>hours</i> waiting for everyone to get in. And when we got to the hotel we weren’t even on the same <i>floor</i>!”</p><p>“Aw, poor baby.”</p><p>Zevran gave an irritated groan. “If the amenities at the studio are half as bad as everything else has been, I may make this my last show.”</p><p>“Hey. I don’t wanna hear that attitude about the job that’s paying for the <i>car</i>.”</p><p>“I’ll have my work face on when it matters, don’t worry. How’s the night shift?”</p><p>“Exhausting,” Terron sighed. “I’ve never been so tired from being <i>bored</i>.”</p><p>“I can’t believe they made you switch during a holiday week.”</p><p>“Not like we’re entertaining.”</p><p>“Suppose so. You’ll let everyone know I’m sad I can’t make it?”</p><p>“Course. They know work gets in the way.”</p><p>Zevran laughed low in his throat. “<i>Work</i> does make a much better excuse than <i>international flight</i>. Ah! I did convince them to get me back in time for Chanukah!”</p><p>“Oh! Good! I already got the time off approved.”</p><p>“Excellent! We’ll—yes, yes.”</p><p>“We’ll talk later?” Terron guessed.</p><p>“One of these days I’ll convince you to come with me and they’ll see why forcing us to part is a crime.”</p><p>“Sure. Feel free to call when you’re done. It’s just me and Caedan, he won’t give a shit.”</p><p>“The things I have to say would get you fired for hearing them at work, <i>amor</i>.”</p><p>Terron snickered against the phone, eyes shut in his mirth.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“Mhm. Love you, too.”</p>
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